The Forgotten

Chapter Two

It was in mid October when we eventually found a place worthy of my Mother's standards. She had turned her nose up at plenty of great houses but she decided that she didn't get a good feeling from any of them, except from the one we bought of course.

The house that she declared was perfection was an old Victorian building. It appeared as if death itself had crawled up through the floorboards and escaped through the chimney in the roof.

The discoloured pinky orange paint was obviously centuries old as it was peeling away from the crumbling bricks. The windows and door were no better, as they were clearly battered and wind was wheezing through the cracks. I guess the front garden was a bonus as it meant I would have somewhere to sit and read in the Summer. But there didn't seemed to be any space to sit or even stand amongst the overgrowth. The only positive point was the location of the house, it was a detached building on the edge of an intriguing forest. I knew as soon as we arrived that I'd be spending most of my time climbing trees and exploring, which pleased me as it meant I could be by myself away from my parents and horrid new house.

It didn't take a very long time to receive the keys to the new house and as soon as they were given to us we were all packed and ready to go in the matter of minutes. My Mother had meticulously planned every step of the move in very precise detail. She literally had hand written steps for my Father and I to follow and in order to keep to the tight schedule on the day of the move she woke us up at 5:30am. I hated her for making me even move that early in the morning. I know hate is a strong word, but it was a Sunday, the day of rest and all that. The new house was a two hour drive away from the old one, so we loaded up the van with all the boxes and I sorrowfully said goodbye to my old home. By the time we'd eventually finished loading the boxes and said our goodbyes it was about 6am. We were thankfully on schedule and didn't waste anymore time. We jumped into the front of the van, my Father behind the wheel, my Mother in the middle and me awkwardly sat on the end. The engine roared and we set off on the journey to the new house. I am reluctant to call it my home as it is not where I feel safe or happy. If anything I feel the complete opposite there.

We arrived at the new house after a long and tiring journey. The whole way there I had to suffer through my Mother's house renovation plans and how I could choose which room I wanted (as long as it wasn't the biggest in the house). There was a small choice as it was a surprisingly big building. There was four bedrooms altogether including the biggest, or my Parent's new room. We pulled up outside and I quickly ran up to the crooked old brown door and let myself in, as I didn't want to be tasked with carrying endless amounts of 'vintage' furniture. Another one of my Mother's flaws. She calls it 'vintage' when really it's just a smelly old piece of furniture she found in a charity shop. The first thing I saw was a long green rug which was covered in dust and looked about a hundred years old. Next I noticed the very big chandelier which had cobwebs draped from each candle holder, the candles had recently been with bulbs it seemed but it couldn't have been that recent judging on the length of the cobwebs. Then I realised that the walls were covered in a murky mustard colour that was patterned small specks of brownish mud like paint. I didn't even bother looking at the rooms downstairs as I knew they would disappoint. Instead I hurried up the creaky old stairs and along the landing. It to had a rug covering the rotting floorboards. This rug was a discoloured red and had gold thread running through it. The landing walls were a nicer cream but still created an unwelcoming, uneasy feeling.

I already knew which room I wanted, the attack room. The place furthest away from other people and somewhere where I could play my music so loud that nobody else would be able to hear it. Again I didn't investigate the bathroom or the other spaces but I did notice the old patterned wall paper in the master bedroom. It gave me an instant headache because of the overly bright colours and massive floral print design. I knew that the paper wouldn't be re-placed though as my Mother is obsessed with flowers. Another of her flaws is the fact that she fills every room with plants and flowers even though she knows I have severe hay fever. 'They look pretty' and 'hush your moaning' she'd repeat. I reached the attic stairs and carefully placed my foot on each foot. I didn't trust the old wood beneath my shoes and so I stepped carefully and slowly. When I got to the top I pushed open the door and glanced in at my new bedroom.